The Prince expressed himself willing to accept the government upon these terms.  He, however, demanded an allowance of forty-five thousand florins monthly for the army expenses and other current outlays.  Here, however, the estates refused their consent.  In a mercantile spirit, unworthy the occasion and the man with whom they were dealing, they endeavoured to chaffer where they should have been only too willing to comply, and they attempted to reduce the reasonable demand of the Prince to thirty thousand florins.  The Prince, who had poured out his own wealth so lavishly in the cause—­who, together with his brothers, particularly the generous John of Nassau, had contributed all which they could raise by mortgage, sales of jewellery and furniture, and by extensive loans, subjecting themselves to constant embarrassment, and almost to penury, felt himself outraged by the paltriness of this conduct.  He expressed his indignation, and denounced the niggardliness of the estates in the strongest language, and declared that he would rather leave the country for ever, with the maintenance of his own honor, than accept the government upon such disgraceful terms.  The estates, disturbed by his vehemence, and struck with its justice, instantly, and without further deliberation, consented to his demand.  They granted the forty-five thousand florins monthly, and the Prince assumed the government, thus remodelled.

During the autumn and early winter of the year 1574, the Emperor Maximilian had been actively exerting himself to bring about a pacification of the Netherlands.  He was certainly sincere, for an excellent reason.  “The Emperor maintains,” said Saint Goard, French ambassador at Madrid, “that if peace is not made with the Beggars, the Empire will depart from the house of Austria, and that such is the determination of the electors.”  On the other hand, if Philip were not weary of the war, at any rate his means for carrying it on were diminishing daily.  Requesens could raise no money in the Netherlands; his secretary wrote to Spain, that the exchequer was at its last gasp, and the cabinet of Madrid was at its wits’ end, and almost incapable of raising ways and means.  The peace party was obtaining the upper hand; the fierce policy of Alva regarded with increasing disfavor.  “The people here,” wrote Saint Goard from Madrid, “are completely desperate, whatever pains they take to put a good face on the matter.  They desire most earnestly to treat, without losing their character.”  It seemed, nevertheless, impossible for Philip to bend his neck.  The hope of wearing the Imperial crown had alone made his bigotry feasible.  To less potent influences it was adamant; and even now, with an impoverished exchequer, and, after seven years of unsuccessful warfare, his purpose was not less rigid than at first.  “The Hollanders demand liberty of conscience,” said Saint Goard, “to which the King will never consent, or I am much mistaken.”